


Infectious Agents

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [29]
Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bickering, F/F, For Science!, Gallifrey, Gratuitous EU Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time they’d done this dance, she’d been a man and it’d been so much more difficult. Missy on Gallifrey, pre-s8.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infectious Agents

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who requested: Missy and the Rani meet up. The Rani gives very scientific compliments, Missy is unsure if this is flirting or the prelude to getting kicked in the (fortunately now nonexistent) nuts again. (May or may not end up in making out?)

Missy has been on Gallifrey for 73 days, and she’s not sure if she likes that. She knows she likes being Missy - with the curves and the voice and the lipstick and the hair. She feels a certain nostalgia, an almost comfort at being home, or as close to home as she’ll ever be. But this is still Gallifrey, and Gallifrey will never want her, and she’ll never be more than a pawn in their half-baked schemes.

She makes the best of it, though. She goes on meandering walks through the Citadel, takes guided tours through museums. Takes a skimmer down to the river, that river, you know the one. Where she and Theta had really, truly started. Ah, memories. And she works: not just what _they_ want her to do, no, she has her own agenda. She downloads a full copy of the Matrix, analyses of post-war society, structural assessments, stochastic forecasts, biological data of all survivors. She rejects the lab they give her, and she knocks out the guards with this fantastic sedative she’s found, and she sets up shop in the one place where she knows beyond a doubt she’s not wanted.

“I don’t care,” the Rani says again. “About any of your problems, about the High Council, about the Doctor, about anything other than my own work and the peace and quiet I require to do it.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Missy replies absentmindedly. She shoves another slide under the microscope: a stylish new designer disease, an off-shoot of the Free Time virus. Lordy, but she does love biological mind-control.

Almost as much as she loves awkward silences. This, this is a special-vintage artisanal awkward silence. She savors it, adjusts the focus on the microscope, feels the Rani seethe. No, no, not _the Rani_ \- only she is allowed silly names, and possibly Theta, if she’s feeling generous. Ushas, Ushas seethes.

“This is my lab,” Ushas says, teeth gritted.

“And it’s so kind of you to invite me here!” Missy pulls back, tosses off a supremely fake smile, then refixes herself to the task at hand.

Ushas is moving closer. Ushas, as always, as she has done since time immemorial, is sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. “Is that - ”

“Obviously.”

“Your work?”

“Just a passing fancy, really. Needed to kill time somehow. Do you like it?”

Ushas narrows her eyes. “It’s - not bad, for a psychopathic renegade.”

“Takes one to know one. Oh, isn’t this fun? The prodigal daughters back home again, working together. Just like the good old days.” Missy doesn’t bother sounding like it actually _is_ any fun, instead lacing her words with a vague, undefined threat. She’ll figure out what that threat is later.

 

This continues: the CIA prepping her for her mission, various Cardinals dropping by for sound bites, the adorable Chancellery Guard member at her door, with his swoop of blonde hair and his muscles and his easily-permeable will. And Ushas’ lab, the virus gradually mutating, bending to her will. And Ushas herself.

The last time they’d done this dance, she’d been a man and it’d been so much more difficult. Now it’s not just professional interest and scientific fascination. Now it’s a different sort of fascination. Ushas probably doesn’t think she sees, because Ushas had never had a sense for anything other than bio-chem. But, oh, she sees: the lingering glances, the casual touches, the praise for work that is standard at best. Is this still her best effort at flirting? Part of Missy thinks that’s a shame, another part finds it so familiar, so lovely, that she can’t help but be charmed.

“I hate to say this,” Ushas says. “But, I’m impressed. Just give us an enemy to use this against, and we’ll have the universe at our feet once again.”

“My feet,” Missy corrects. “I did this, it’s mine, not yours. But that’s sweet of you to say. Anyway, viruses are boring. What’s _really_ interesting is _you._ ”

“Me.” Ushas stares blankly at her. Had she always had that steel-grey hair, those piercing brown eyes? No matter.

“Yes, you. Why are you here? What do you want? Who are you, Ushas? Are you still the Rani? Do you still claim that title? Do you still-” Missy slides in, cornering her against a wall. Breathing in the scent of her. “Want me?”

Ushas blushes, nearly.

“Good enough for government work,” Missy says. She grins, and nips at Ushas’ chin, then kisses her square on the mouth.

Chancellery Guard is knocking on the door. Poor sweet boy. She should invite him in, really she should. But first, a few moments alone with her dear old friend.


End file.
